


Minim Rest

by PaperLaur (laurelofthestory)



Category: Crypt of the NecroDancer
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Arguing, Canon Era, Canon Het Relationship, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Married Couple, Past Brainwashing, Past Character Death, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelofthestory/pseuds/PaperLaur
Summary: Dorian never gave up on Melody, even after twelve years. But he made plenty of mistakes along the way, she's upset with what he's done, and there are many loose ends to be tied.Maybe, for one night, just being alive is enough.





	Minim Rest

**Author's Note:**

> "Minim rest" is what British English calls a musical half-note rest. ...I couldn't think of anything better.
> 
> Nick threatened to ban me from the NecroDancer lore geeks server if I didn't write something Melodorian by the 26th. So here you go, ya doofus. I'm holding you responsible.

Early in the morning, before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon, three figures could be seen coming over the hill at the outskirts of the small village. They were all known to the town - a strange little family of musicians and adventurers who were known for always being a ways off the beaten path. And yet, were anyone awake to spot them, they would wonder if they were seeing ghosts, for two of them had been gone for a very, very long time.

The tallest of the three was a man who looked even older than his years, his face pallid and marked with sickly purple spots that were the marks of the village’s ‘curse’, a plague that had taken many lives over the generations. His ginger hair was covered in dust and dirt, and he was wearing a strange set of wooden plate armor that made him look a bit like a walking string instrument. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were full of life, and even as they walked, color and health seemed to return to his skin.

Leaning against him was a blonde young woman who shared the man’s strong jaw and green eyes, along with his tired expression. She seemed satisfied, even though the bandanna keeping her hair back was soaked with blood, and she looked bruised and battered, as if she’d been through a lifetime’s worth of hardship.

And then, another woman, this one ginger-haired as well; abnormally pale, soft blue eyes...and playing a strange golden instrument as they walked, leaving behind a trail of eerie music and faint purple sparks that hung in the air around them for barely half a moment before vanishing.

She was grateful that no one was awake to see her. For while her husband had been missing and her daughter had been known to be reclusive, her sudden appearance would be the hardest to explain.

After all, she had been dead for twelve years.

The three came to the doorstep of a rickety wooden house, and were greeted at the door by a very large man with a shovel replacing his left hand. They were ushered in and sat around a table fashioned out of a dark, dusty-colored wood, probably by hand. The large man went into the kitchen, the ginger woman stood as if to help him, but was quickly urged to not strain herself too hard.

Breakfast was a simple affair that morning; Eli couldn’t do all that much in the kitchen anymore since the accident, though he tried. No one particularly minded, as everyone was exhausted and looked on the brink of passing out.

In fact, Dorian was _too_ exhausted - he tried to make it through the meal, but a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame him, and he quickly excused himself. The weary man practically had to drag himself out of his chair and down the hall to the bedroom, a distance that felt impossible without the urgency of battle burning through his veins and keeping him standing. He promptly fell onto his stomach on the bed, groaning loudly.

His armor...he _really_ didn’t want to be in this armor anymore, it was stiff and he was sweaty and he didn’t like what it represented. But at the same time, he didn’t want to get up and put in the effort to undress. In the end, laziness won out, and he simply stayed there face-down, paying attention to little other than the faint ringing inside of his ears that he suspected was never going to go away, the unsteady beating of his own heart, and the headache growing ever worse by the moment.

Dorian hadn’t wanted his family to see just how rattled he was by the experience he’d gone through. Cadence had gotten a bit of an idea of it while they’d been making their way out of the crypt together, but he just didn’t want them worrying about him - they had enough to deal with right now, and the last thing he wanted to be was a burden. It occurred to him that perhaps he _had_ been a burden - for the past twelve years, it seemed that his absence had been very much felt, if Cadence was any indication. He could tell she was bitter and upset, and he knew she had every right to be, because he’d failed her in every possible way. He had a great deal of regrets, and his only comfort was that there hadn’t been more _to_ regret.

She was still alive, at least.

And hopefully what he’d managed to do tonight would make up for his previous failings. This was what he’d been working towards for all that time, why he’d been so often missing, and though he understood now it wasn’t right, it had paid off in the end, and he could only hope that would be enough of an apology.

Eventually, he heard the sound of the gentle plucking of strings coming towards the room. Dorian closed his eyes and simply listened to the music for a little while, letting it drown out his own thoughts - her playing had always been magical to him, even before actual magic had gotten involved. He wasn’t a musician by trade, but it was because of her that he knew music transcended thoughts and words, explaining pure emotion better than any fumblings of his own clumsy tongue could ever hope to manage.

...But focusing on the sound of the particular _instrument_ she was playing for too long blanked his mind and gave him an unpleasant floating, empty sensation that made him shudder and a bolt of fear shoot through him as the music forced his heart to beat in time.

It was the same feeling he’d gotten just before everything had gone wrong.

He let out another groan, rolling over onto his back and letting his head loll to the side in the direction of the doorway. And a moment later, she arrived - the Golden Lute in her arms, a vaguely troubled look on the face that to him was angelic, a face he hated that he’d almost forgotten after all this time. Dorian tried to prop himself up on his arms, but couldn’t manage it, flopping back uselessly onto the bed.

“Well, _you_ look terrible,” said Melody, frankly. Her voice was like music even on its own, and despite the fact that she was being sarcastic, he couldn’t help but hang on every word.

God, he’d missed her voice so much...

“Sorry,” he responded with a weak smile, “But I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of this bed for the next day unless the house is on fire.”

Melody snorted a bit, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Dorian could remember very clearly when the roles had been switched - when _she_ had been helplessly trapped in bed, and _he_ had been the one watching over her with that same concerned look she now wore. It was unpleasant to think about.

He reached out with his hand, fumbling about until he found her. He rested his palm against her side, closing his eyes and feeling the faint movement under his hand as she breathed. It still felt terribly unreal, and he feared that if he didn’t keep a hold of her, she might slip away again. That she wasn’t even here, and that this wonderful vision of his home and his family back together as he’d always wanted was merely a trick of the Golden Lute and the monster that had kept him trapped under its influence.

“Dorian...”

The way she said his name was pained, full of a multitude of emotions - so many that she could not decide on one particular thing she felt. He cracked his eyes open, tilting his head to look up at her with curiosity.

Melody sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I...I told you not to.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You - you know perfectly well what I mean.”

It was true, he did. He knew it all too well. But he wanted to stall, he didn’t want to have this conversation, not right now...

“Honey...” He squeezed her side a bit, “Can we - can we not do this right now...? I’m not up for it...”

“ _No,_ Dorian, we have to discuss - ” She trailed off, pursing her lips. “...Just what _happened_ to you down there?”

That was an uncomfortable topic as well, but at least it was one with a relatively simple explanation. He shut his eyes again, taking a few deep breaths before answering.

“...The Golden Lute. Someone...someone else already had it when I went down there - “

“I know.” Her gaze was hard and angry, though not at him. “ _Believe_ me, I know.” Melody had been told about that pitiful shambling mess of a former man, though said monster admittedly hadn’t been _alive_ last time he’d been spotted, if ‘alive’ was even the proper word for what he was.

Dorian nodded slightly, “Well I...I tried to take it from him, but something happened. Things didn’t go well and...he did something to me with the lute. I don’t remember.”

Her eyes widened, “Did you _die?_ ”

“If I didn’t, it sure felt like it.”

Melody’s fingers nearly fumbled on the strings of the instrument that was keeping her alive, looking away with an expression of exasperated frustration. There were a few moments of relative silence, the only sound being her plucking out a slightly darker tune that caused purple light to dance around her hands.

Eventually, she resumed her earlier, softer song, looking back at him.

“You died, and he used the lute to control you. Just like all the other undead.”

Dorian winced, but nodded, “I think so. Cadence saved me. Then we brought you back...”

“That at least explains why you’re so...tired,” she mused, “That must’ve been terrible.”

“It was. But - but now you’re back. So it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Dorian tried to shift ‘his position to be closer to her, but she pulled herself away from his hand. “Yes, it _does_ matter!” she snapped, and he winced at her volume, something that made the everpresent ringing in his ears even worse. She gritted her teeth, though her eyes were full of concern. “You could’ve _died_ down there - well, I mean, you _did_ die down there. If Cadence hadn’t gone running after you, you’d be trapped there forever all because of you chasing this...this _thing_. Yes, it worked in the end, but _our daughter_ shouldn’t have _had_ to put herself in _danger_ to find you.”

Dorian shut his eyes again, looking absolutely miserable. His hand dropped to the bed.

“...I know, Melody. I know.” It was all he could say.

Another pause. When she spoke again, her voice was much quieter. “Dorian, it’s been over ten years - ”

“Twelve. It’s been twelve years. I’ve counted.”

“It’s been _twelve years_ since I died. Were you looking all this time?”

“I had to.”

“And Cadence? What about her?”

“She and Eli did _fine_ when I wasn’t around.”

“But _Dorian..._ ” Her voice was pained, and he opened his eyes to meet hers again. He could feel his chest tighten at the sadness in her eyes, the pain and betrayal.

“I _told_ you to take care of her after I was gone. You _promised_ you’d take care of her. That’s the _only thing_ I wanted you to do for me, and you didn’t. You went off chasing the lute instead, and left her behind, _just_ like...”

Melody’s voice cracked, and she fell silent, the music from the lute becoming somber and haunting. But the worst part of it for Dorian was that he knew she was right - he’d always known it. He’d spent twelve years rationalizing his increasingly long journeys, both to himself and to his family. It hadn’t been what she’d wanted, no, but wouldn’t she be happy to be alive again? Wouldn’t she be able to forget about all that?

He’d imagined their reunion a great many times, truthfully. And he’d always imagined her throwing herself into his arms again and they would cry with each other and just enjoy the moment regardless of what it had taken to get here, because they’d cheated fate itself, their family was fixed now and everything would be better. Eli had always called him an idealist, a dreamer, too hopeful and romantic, and Dorian only now was willing to admit that he might’ve been right.

And as much as he wanted to tell her it didn’t matter now, he knew it did, and it hurt like hell. His throat went tight.

He only opened his mouth to speak momentarily, afraid that all the emotion would spill over.

“...I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her. He’d just been trying to make everything right again, and instead he’d caused a mess. Cadence had grown up while he wasn’t looking, Eli was furious with him, and Melody was back, but her life was tied to a magical instrument that had caused her mother enough pain to abandon her in an effort to get it away from their family. And a small voice in his head wondered if this could really last...

Dorian heard the creak of the bed-springs as Melody shifted. He opened one eye to see that she had laid down beside him, still playing the lute idly as it rested on her chest. She was staring up at the ceiling, seemingly _through_ it at something far away, perhaps in her past.

“...I’m sorry, too.” She gave a sigh through her nose. “That wasn’t fair of me to say.”

“No, no, it was fair, it’s _true_.” He turned so his whole body was facing her. “I...I messed up. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way. I know you’re _all_ upset with me.” A spark of determination flared in his tired eyes. “But I _swear_ that from here on out, I’ll do _anything_ to make it up to you - and Cadence and Eli, too. I know saying sorry isn’t enough, I want to _show_ you. I’m not going to go running around chasing adventure anymore unless you’re all with me. I’ll work as hard as I have to to make things normal again. You’re _not_ going to be tied to that lute forever, not if I have anything to say about it.”

Melody turned her head towards him, her expression conflicted. Then, she moved closer to him, so their faces were nearly touching.

“You were always...so _stubborn_.”

“Maybe I am.”

Her eyes were full of sorrow, of things that she did not want to tell him for fear of dashing his hopes. But it was loving, all the same.

“I couldn’t just sit and do nothing,” Dorian mumbled, half-closing his eyes, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“That isn’t true and you know it.”

“...I missed you. So much.”

“I...I missed you too, Dorian.”

Melody leaned her head forward and closed the last of the distance, gently brushing her lips against his. It almost felt like the first time, it had been so long...She left their foreheads touching, and he stared at her with that hopeless doe-eyed look that almost made her burst out laughing. She knew full well that she was capable of turning her husband to mush with just a look, a word, a touch - and she’d always enjoyed taking advantage of it, her mischievous side wanting to mess with him, the rest of her just finding it adorable that after so long, he could still look at her this way, and make her feel as if she were the most important person in the world.

He’d done a lot of things wrong, nothing could change that, or the hurt and betrayal that still burned her undead heart. But the fact that he’d done all of this for her sake was quite flattering. And she did have to admit that it had worked out.

Things were going to be messy from here on out. There were loose ends to be tied, and she knew she couldn’t keep playing forever - she knew the risks that they all didn’t, the burden that they had placed on her shoulders. But he had such hope, and he was happy, and she was happy...maybe for tonight, she could just enjoy being alive.

“I love you, Dorian.”

“I love you, too.”

This time, he was the one who kissed her, and they stayed like that for several moments, keeping close to each other even after it was over. Their legs tangled together, and he draped one arm across her waist, holding her as tightly as he dared while allowing her to keep playing. Her song picked up a warmer, softer tone, and he was happy to be silent and listen to the heavenly music from his angel returned to Earth.

And this time, he welcomed the feeling of his guilt and racing thoughts being washed away by the unearthly tones, saved for some other day. This time, he _let_ the music fill his soul and coax his heart into beating with it. Even if the lute made him nervous, he trusted her completely with whatever power she might hold over him, living or dead.

After all, he’d been under _her_ spell from the very beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to BulletNick, SassyDragon, LilacDownDeep, and all the others on the Necrodancer lore server. You've all been wonderful friends to me at a time when I've needed compassion most.


End file.
